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Lucy-le-Bocage lies along the road leading north into the forest of
Belleau
Wood in the Aisne sector of France. Like most of the villages in this
area
it is small, old and, as of yet, holding up well given the destruction
in
the rest of the country. The neat streets have not been scarred by
shelling,
though the constant traffic of refugees keep them far more crowded than
usual. The most obvious sign of the war here is the shortage of men who
aren't children or elderly. Conscription has seemingly called every
able-bodied man it can to try and free France. A market square is
situated
in the middle of town, set up with many little shops where craftsmen
ply
their trades. A few restaurants and little bars are on the market as
well,
giving the people a place to take their ease after working. The homes
are
well-kept, if modest, most women keeping a garden to try and ease the
shortages across the country.
There is good farmland in the area around the village and the
countryside
is warm and green with the coming of summer. Yet there's still that
not-quite-right feeling of bustle and nervousness about the place that
stop
it from feeling strictly normal. Though the everyday horror of war may
not
have reached Lucy-le-Bocage yet, the people here can feel it coming.

Bob trundles along down the road, his hefty frame obvious amoung the
other
soldiers coming up to the lines. He carries a rifle over one shoulder,
and
puffs along.

Hannaken says, "You'll understand when the shooting starts," he says
to
the younger guy. He then pats him on the shoulder and stands up. The
order
comes to move again and Hannaken grabs his gear and secures it on his
body
again. Then they all head off down the road.

George Luz grabs his pack and lifts both it and his rifle up. He begins
a
stride down the road towards the village. Mancuso ain't a small man
himself,
but he doesn't move too heavily. He came to basic in the shape of a
young
boxer, and months of training has only put him in better form. He's
gone
quiet now, that look of eagerness still shining in his dark eyes.

Alex casually trudges down the road, unslinging his rifle and opening
the
bolt, he withdraws a clip of rounds, pushing them into the magazine and
sliding the bolt forward, chambering one bullet. Flicking the safety
on, he
glances about.

Pete doesn't bother nodding assent to Hannaken. He'll be scared out of
his
wits up until the aderniline hits his system. Or he dies. He beings
quickly
marching down the road to the villge, with the rest of his units.

The village is a hive of activity, a company of Marines just arrived
after
all. The local French are out in the streets, mouths hanging open a
little
as they know what this means, that the war suddenly got a whole lot
nearer.
A mix of officers are here, US Army and Marines both, but the grunts
seem to
be just marines. Only riflemen too, no heavy guns in sight anywhere, no
artillery outside the town… not a single trench. You are ushered over
to a
Marine captain, who looks your squad over, and then specifically
George, who
has the two stripes. "Finally, looks like everybody is here."

George Luz nods slightly at the Captain, "Yes sir, we're as ready as
Parris
can make us." he turns around and looks at Mancuso, "Lance Corporal.
Make
sure everybody's squared away and set to go. Its Kraut-killing time."

Mancuso moves to stand next to George, trying to look as military and
proper
as he can. No more racial slurs or calls to 'shut the fuck up' at
least. For
now. He nods to George, barking out a quick, "Yeah, Corporal" before
giving
the squad a look-over.

Alex shoulders his rifle as he moves into the gaggle-fuck of Marines
standing about. Casually lighting a cigarette, he patiently adopts the
typical Military tradition of hurry up and wait.

Hannaken looks at the officer and tightens his grip on the
Springfield. He
checks his weapon and then his grenades…ready to move.

Pete if Marine Corps training has taught Pete anything, it's how to
stand at
attention and keep up his bearing. And here he does so. It's probably
the
only thing keepign him from running like hell.

Bob stands about with the others. He reaches into a pocket and pulls
out a
cigarette, sticking it in the corner of his mouth. "Anyone got a
light?" he
asks.

The Captain nods. "Got a special job for you guys. I want half of your
squad
to do a little reconnaissance. I suggest you send your lance and a
couple of
marines out on that duty. Go borrow that French truck for the job.". He
beckons George over to a nearby table,surrounded by staff officers,
upon
which is spread a map. Which looks rather like…http://www.worldwar1.com/dbc/ct_map2.htm

George Luz walks over to the table and quickly scans the map. He then
looks
up and makes a quick assesment. Calling back to the Squad, he calls,
"Mancuso! Get over here!" he then looks back down at the map, his
finger
tracing from where they are, up the line towards Belleau Woods.

Pagliaccio leans against a few crates of ammo, and digs into his
completely
impractical WWI havesack ineffectually for some sort of snack after the
long
walk. "Fucking packs, gonna strangle the son of a bitch who made these
damned things…." He just waits to be told what to do. He's good at
that.

Mancuso grunts at the state of the men. They look ready to him. He
throws a
look over at the truck, then goes to have a gander at the map.

George Luz looks sideways at Mancuso and nods slightly, "Alright Lance
Corporal. Grab afew men and take that truck over there and scout this
area
out around here." he points out the road ahead towards Belleau Wood.

The Captains finger traces along the map. "I want your squad to dig in
here." he says, noting the two locations north of here… "The recon
people,
I want you to drive to Bouresche, which is over here." he notes,
pointing to
the east. "Find out if any Fritzes are there, and warn the locals, no
Allied
units have gone through that town and this place looks like its going
to be
a battlefield soon, least we can do is warn em, right?"

Mancuso takes a second look at the map and then nods shortly to George.
"How
many of them you want I should take along?" he asks the corporal.

George Luz nods up at the Captain, "Yeah, makes sense. They'll know
whats
coming." he glances over at Mancuso and frowns for a second, "Take
atleast
three. We'll need the rest to dig in."

Mancuso nods short to George, then strides out where he can face the
rest of
the boys. "Alright!" he calls roughly. "I need three men to load up in
that
truck and go with me to scout for them damn Huns. Any volunteers?"

Pagliaccio knows better than to volunteer for anything.

Alex glances up as the Lance Corporal asks for volunteers. The Rifleman
quickly turning away, taking a puff on his cigarette as he trudges off
to
join another group further away from the Marine, joining in the
conversation
over Luz's mysterious twin sisters.

Pete still looks to be quite stiff, and doesn't say anything for
awhile.
Then, almost as a test to see if he could actually say it, he speaks
up.
"I'll go!" And then he's left thinking what a stupid thing that was to
do,
and why the hell did he need to tempt fate!

Bob bahs. "I'll go, let's have at 'em." he says cheerfully enough.

George Luz glances at the Captain, "Sir. Any idea what the odds are?
How
many Krauts there are to Marines?" he says somewhat quietly, looking
back
down at the map, finger placed on the Wood section.

The Captain shrugs. "Don't know yet, we don't even know where they are.
The
French are somewhere to our south east at Chateau Thierry - we think.
We got
no telephone wires laid, we're down to using motorcyclist couriers at
the
moment, as the situation is changing very rapidly. We think Bouresche
is a
little too close for comfort so we're digging here just in case, but if
we
can jump over there, if your recon suggests its safe, then we'll do
that, no
sense giving up any more yards than we need to."

Mancuso pulls another Marine, a lanky guy from New Jersey, out of the
mix.
That's his three. They're in business. "Load 'em up, ladies," he says,
jerking a thumb back in the direction of the truck. He lingers a
moment, to
speak to the corporal and officer. "Sir, where should we report to
after
we've had our look-see?"

George Luz glances back at Mancuso, "We'll be in the Woods. Drop the
truck
back off here, then meet us up north." he turns around to face the
squad,
"Everyone else! Fall in! We're moving north!" he shouts out as he nods
to
the Captain then heads back to his men to begin the short march north.

<> Pete gets into Motor Truck.

Alex chuckles, dropping his cigarette and stepping on it with his boot,
trudging over to join the other Marines as they prepare to move east.

<> Bob gets into Motor Truck.#-1

Mancuso nods shortly to George, then hauls his big Italian ass into the
driver's seat of the truck. "Let's roll, ladies," he shouts.

<> Mancuso gets into Motor Truck.#-1

Pagliaccio shoulders his rifle, and begins to unhook his Etool from his
pack, hefting it over his shoulder, and moving northward in the loose
tactical column known as the marine clusterfuck. IT works well.

Jacob has arrived.

<> Mancuso slips into the Driver position of this
Motor
Truck!

(From Motor Truck) Mancuso lugs himself into the truck and slams the
door
closed behind him. He doesn't look too nervous, but he may just be good
at
keeping it from showing. "Keep your eyes peeled," he says, turning to
see
where the men are situated in the vehicle. "God knows how many of them
damn
bastards are out there."

Jacob has left.

(From Motor Truck) Pete doesn't say a word as he gets into the truck,
and
just finds a place in the corner, in the back. Maybe they wouldn't find
anything on recon, and, when they got back, the fighting would be over!
Maybe…

(From Motor Truck) Bob moves to stand in the front right near the cab
in the
back of the truck, prefering to stay up on his feet as he looks around
at
the other two fellows. "Ah, looks like we're gonna have some fun here."

(From Motor Truck) Mancuso grunts with some satisfaction. He's ready to
take
off, whether they're all safely in their seats or not. The tall guy
from New
Jersey, who was trying to light a cigarette, lets out a curse as he
burns
his fingers when Mancuso jerks the truck off into action.

A hardpacked road winds its way off in the distance. It's large enough
to
allow two vehicles to pass each other on it as long as there's nobody
turning a corner sharply. Mostly used by horses and wagons, it has
lately
seen much other traffic in the form of trucks and the road is beginning
to
show signs of wear and tear.

<> Motor Truck moves East to Bouresches .

(From Motor Truck) Pete looks up to Bob with a look of slight horror,
then
goes back into his own thoughts. He doesn't want their to be any fun!
He
wants to be at home! Hell, a prison cell at Riker's had to be better
than
this, right?

(From Motor Truck) The truck drives on through the countryside, under
the
jerky wheeling of Gus Mancuso. "You boys see anything?" he calls as he
drives. His own eyes keep a sharp look-out out front, but he hasn't
seen
anything that's made him want to stop yet.

Bob chuckles slightly. "Never been in a gunfight before, bub?" he asks.
"Keep your head on your shoulders and you'll be alright."

<> Motor Truck moves East to Bouresches .

Pete looks up again, to Bob. "What, and you have?" He looks to anxious
for
his own good, his normal darty movements turning into his bones trying
to
hop out of his skin. "What-what's it like, do you know? Is it bad?" The
command from the front is met with a "Nothing, L-Lance!"

(From Motor Truck) Mancuso briefly looks back at Pete, grunting at the
other
man as he drives. "Don't worry about it until you're in it, pal," he
says
roughly. "You'll have more than enough time to wet yourself when we get
to
them Huns."

<> Motor Truck moves East to Bouresches .

Bob nods his head. "I've been in my share of fights, but like I
said…just
keep your head down and keep moving," he says. "You'll be fine."

<> Motor Truck moves East to Bouresches .

(From Motor Truck) Mancuso continues to motor the truck east, closer
and
closer to the villag eof Bouresches. They have the road mostly to
themselves. They don't pass a single cart or horse on their way. It
makes
for an eerie ride. "So, where you fellas from?" he asks, in an attempt
to
make conversation while keeping his eyes sharp for Germans. The tall
guy
answers, "Newark" shortly enough. He ain't much of a talker.

<> Motor Truck moves East to Bouresches .

(From Motor Truck) Pete nods shakily. "I-I've been in my share of
fights,
too. Small-time stuff. Go-got close to a championship be-before I came
here.
I've never be-been this nervous." Despite orders from the contrary, he
really looks to be scared shitless.

(From Motor Truck) The Big New Yorker looks over at Pete with some
surprise.
"You a boxer?" Mancuso asks. "Fuck, man. You should be used to getting
pummeled by now. Ain't much different if it's in a ring or an alley or
out
in one of these damn fields, to my mind."

(From Motor Truck) Pete gives something approxamating a very nervous
smile.
A kindred spirt perhaps? "They kill you s-slowly in the ring, you know.
And
you got even od-odds. Guns are a different story, ya know?" He shakes
his
head. "I don't want to be here. I should be in jail. God, that's where
I
should be. I don't want to die."

Bob chuckles. "Aww, shush. You'll be fine, I promise," he replies
heavily.
"Tell ya what, kid, here, have a drink." He removes a flask from his
pocket
and tosses it at Pete.

(From Motor Truck) Mancuso barks a laugh at Pete, a grin splitting his
thuggish face. "The Marines are better than prison, pal. At least they
pay
better, and you only have to worry about the guys on the other side
stabbing
you in the back." He sounds like he knows what he's talking about, as
far as
prison comparisons go. "What do you fellas call yourselves? Name’s Gus,
back
in the real goddamn world. Gus Mancuso."

(From Motor Truck) The former boxer catches the flask with one hand,
unscrews the top with a quick, fluid motion, and proceeds to down half
the
flask in no time at all. And he /still/ shakes. At least he knows how
to
drink. He gives a grateful nod to Bob, and tosses the flask back in an
arc
that shows bad aim. "Thanks, pal." He looks to the front of the truck.
"Name's Pete Alister. Nice ta meet b-both of you."

(From Motor Truck) "I'm Jim," the Jersey boy answers, between chain
puffs on
his cigarette. "Jim Weiss." His silence seems to be less from plain
unsocialness than nerves. Mancuso grunts at the man's name. The truck
rumbles on. "You'll do okay," the big Italian says, to both of them.
"After
all that stuff they taught us back on the island, we could kill the
damn
Kaiser himself without breaking a sweat."

A simple French village on the outskirts of the southeasterly part of
Belleau Wood. It has remained more or less unharmed by the war thus
far,
though there's a staunchly waiting feel in the air here, as if the
citizens
were waiting for that to change at any moment. Houses of stone line the
streets. Mostly modest cottages, though there is the occasional larger,
finer home situated among them. A shortage of supplies across the
country is
evident in the market, where women have to choosy and creative to get
what's
needed for their families. The shops are suffering as well, but the
tailors
and carpenters and all manner of workers still come in to do their jobs
every day.
It is a somewhat more industrial place than many of the country
villages in
the area but it's still quite provincial. An old brick hotel in the
heart of
town gives visitors a place to stay, though there aren't many travelers
through here these days other than refugees. A little bistro in the
marketplace still opens everyday, and the old woman who runs it somehow
manages to scrape together the ingredients to serve the best soup an
pastries in town. There are still taverns to be found, where men can
find
all manner of amusements from gambling to women.
A railroad station lies just outside the village, making it a valuable
tactical strong point, which no doubt contributes to that sense of
unease in
the air here.

(From Motor Truck) The truck rumbles into Bouresches, Mancuso pulling
it to
a stop to better look around. He leans out the window, casting an eye
around
the village. Some of the villagers eye him back, but he don't pay them
much
mind. "You sure you boys didn't spot any Jerries on the road?" he asks.
"I
didn't see a hair of them sons of bitches."

<> You notice Luc arrive at Bouresches.

Bob shakes his head. "No!" he shouts back up to the front. "I can't see
a
damn thing!" he says.

"Oh, wait…I see something!" Bob says "That's a friendly though I
think…"

Luc comes running from the west, down the road. He's jumping up, waving
both
hands furiously towards the motor truck. One hand carries an old
farmer's
shotgun, or a wreck of a piece of hardware that looks like one. He's
young,
not even in a uniform. The voice calls out in French, "La Boche!"

Pete shakes his head up to the front. "I-I didn't see a thing when we
were
moving. "You, you'd think the villigers would have seen something, and
yelled out." He breathes a sigh. "Maybe, maybe that aren't here, right?
Maybe the brass got there info wrong!"

Bob shouts "Shit, we need to get that kid out of here!" He frowns and
thumps
the cab. "Damnit, he's gonna get himself shot up…"

(From Motor Truck) Mancuso leans further out the window, shouting a
"What
the hell?" at Luc. "Hey! Kid! Boche? You mean there's Huns around?
Where the
bastards?"

Luc turns with a cough, taking a moment to catch his breath rather than
speak. But his right arm points the hand out, towards the wheatfields
and
woods to the north. "Ils arrivent au foret! La Boche! Les Allemagnes"

Pete looks down to the kid in horror, horror of what those words mean.
He
grips his rifle even tighter. "What's he saying? Anyone speak French?"

Luc adds a call to the old man, presumeably someone he knows, « The
Germans
are coming this way! From the Woods! » in French.

(From Motor Truck) Mancuso bites off a sharp, "Fuck!" He don't
understand
French, but he knows the word 'Boche' and the pointing is clear enough.
"Huns, boys. He's saying Huns. In the forest and the field north of
here. We
better get back and warn the boys."

Bob thumps the cab. "Says there's germans in the forest!" he shouts
again.
"Forest, and he's pointing to the north woods…"

(From Motor Truck) Bob leans out the back of the truck. "Combien des
Allemagnes?" he asks the kid.

Pete looks back up to the front. "You sure? I mean, are you sure that's
what
the kid's saying? Germans up to the North?" Damn. Even the booze is
wearing
off. HE looks scared-like at Bob.

Luc doesn't wait for Bob, the youth starts running straight towards the
truck, as if in panick. The shotgun's carried in a tight grip in his
left
hand, but there's no sign of any pack or bag of gear, not even ammo on
the
young fellow. "Beaucoups!" as he tries to hook an arm on the panel to
get
in.

<> Luc gets into Motor Truck.#-1

(From Motor Truck) moves up and waves his arms. "Non! Non!" he shouts,
waving his rifle butt at the boy to get him to get off the back of the
truck.

(From Motor Truck) Mancuso doesn't answer Pete. He just grabs the wheel
and
turns back toward the west. With Luc in tow. "Looks like he can tell it
to
the officer," he growls. "Hey! Let him in. And keep an eye on that
frog.
Don't let him go jumping back out, now that we've got him."

Luc tries to catch his breath once up on the bumper. "Beaucoup.
Beaucoup des
soldats." He's Luc adds a gesture to the north and west, through the
trees.

(From Motor Truck) Mancuso mutters a rough, "Yeah. Bo-cup, kid" to Luc
as he
drives, flooring it now. He doesn't need a second language to pick up
on
those gestures. "Sounds like they're right on top of us. Dammit! I hope
the
boys have dug in good."

A hardpacked road winds its way off in the distance. It's large enough
to
allow two vehicles to pass each other on it as long as there's nobody
turning a corner sharply. Mostly used by horses and wagons, it has
lately
seen much other traffic in the form of trucks and the road is beginning
to
show signs of wear and tear.

Luc is drawing in big gasps of air, his hair a darker brown around the
tossled edges soaked with sweat. The shotgun's not showing any signs of
having been fired in months, perhaps about the time the last feral boar
managed to dig up the local truffles. As the truck continues to drive
west,
he starts waving both arms wildly again. Bob is level-headed and keeps
his
head low in the bakc of the truck. "Damnit, why did we bring this
kid…" he
mutters unhappily.

(From Motor Truck) Mancuso barks over at Bob, "Hey! Ask the little
fucker
what the hell he's so excited about! And do it without slamming him
with
your goddamn gun this time."

Pete looks at the kid in silence. All that jumping around isn't helping
his
nerves. There could be a whole division of fucking German's out there,
for
all they knew! Foxholes and a squad wouldn't stop that! "What was that?
What
was that he said?"

Luc quickly points the shotgun in a motion towards the right side of
the
truck, in the direction of North.

Luc gets more serious, drawing the butt of the shotgun against his
chest.
He's not a very big young fellow, perhaps mid-teens, and the kick on
that
thing might slam him against the panels of the truck if he fired it
from
here. "Ouest! Oui! Boche…" and he coughs, struggling to try to manage
a
new word or two. "Go Ouest. Boche" stopping, he quickly motions the gun
towards the north. "Boche au nord."

Pete speaks up, voice shaking. "I-I think that he wants us to go North,
or
the German's are north?-" The shoot from the rifle comes quickly, and a
german bullet lances into Pete's chest. He begins screaming. "Ahhh!
Fuck!
Fuck!"

(From Motor Truck) "Yeah, yeah, Boche," Mancuso growls, too intent on
driving back to the French village from whence they came. Then that
bullet
tears through the truck. "Fuck! Alister. Get down."

Bob says "GO! GO! GO!"

<> Motor Truck moves West to Lucy-le-Bocage .

Luc starts shivering, unable to hold what might be an aged model of a
farmer's shotgun in his hands to aim. "Boche!!!" he calls out, breaking
his
voice.

(From Motor Truck) "How is he?" Mancuso growls, as per Pete. He doesn't
dare
take his eye off the road for too long, himself. With the rush of
adreneline, it takes him a sec to notice the wound in his own chest.
It's
only then that it hurts, too. "Fuck."

Bob doesn't duck and doesn't do anything but shout as he moves over to
Pete.
"Get the fuck back! We got some serious problems!" he hollars as he
reaches
out and puts his hands on Pete's chest, pushing down hard. "Shit, I
think
they got him right in the lung…missed his heart though I think…we
need
to get him to a medic /now/!" he shouts.

(From Motor Truck) Pete is holding a spot on his chest that is rapidly
growing red, a bit of blood flowing around his tightly clasped hands.
"Oh
God. Oh God. I don't want to die here! I told you I was going to die
here!"
He cries, before coughing a bit, a bit of blood spattering to the
wooden
floor.

(From Motor Truck) Bob kneels down next to the Pete kid and holds the
wound,
his hands folding over the hole and pressing down. "You'll be OK,
kid…"

(From Motor Truck) Where they are is getting closer to Lucy-le-Bocage,
but
the road is long. "You ain't gonna die, Alister!" he yells at the man,
trying to sound encouraging. "We're gonna get you back to the village.
The
docs'll take care of you there." His own blood is staining the khaki on
his
chest, but he's not bleeding near as bad at Pete. Just a flesh wound.

<> Motor Truck moves West to Lucy-le-Bocage .

Luc turns to the driver, trying to quickly point and call out
directions on
where the road leads to. "Allez-y" as he points back to the east,
Bouresches.

<> Motor Truck moves West to Lucy-le-Bocage .

(From Motor Truck) All the reassurances and promises of doctor's in his
future doesn't seem to detract from the fact that Pete see's blood
flowing
from his chest, and fluid in his lungs, and blood spattering out every
time
he cough, which is often, now. "I don't wanna-don't wanna-" Another
cough, a
terrible one, this one spraying blood to the back and to anyone nearby.

Luc takes in a deep breath, the shotgun gripped in both hands as he
tries to
peer out the back. "Ave Marie. Ave Marie. Ave Marie." muttered quickly.

<> Motor Truck moves East to Lucy-le-Bocage .

Luc tries to help Mancuso stick to the road with points and gestures of
his
hands towards Lucy-le-Bocage.

(From Motor Truck) Mancuso isn't paying much attention to Luc, which is
probably why he takes a few wrong turns before ending up in the
wheatfield
outside the village. "Out!" he hollers to the other Marines. "Help me
get
him." This is directed to Weiss and Bob, as he goes to lift wounded
Pete out
of the truck.

Lucy-le-Bocage lies along the road leading north into the forest of
Belleau
Wood in the Aisne sector of France. Like most of the villages in this
area
it is small, old and, as of yet, holding up well given the destruction
in
the rest of the country. The neat streets have not been scarred by
shelling,
though the constant traffic of refugees keep them far more crowded than
usual. The most obvious sign of the war here is the shortage of men who
aren't children or elderly. Conscription has seemingly called every
able-bodied man it can to try and free France. A market square is
situated
in the middle of town, set up with many little shops where craftsmen
ply
their trades. A few restaurants and little bars are on the market as
well,
giving the people a place to take their ease after working. The homes
are
well-kept, if modest, most women keeping a garden to try and ease the
shortages across the country.
There is good farmland in the area around the village and the
countryside
is warm and green with the coming of summer. Yet there's still that
not-quite-right feeling of bustle and nervousness about the place that
stop
it from feeling strictly normal. Though the everyday horror of war may
not
have reached Lucy-le-Bocage yet, the people here can feel it coming.

Bob hops out of the truck and helps Pete to the edge, tearing one of
his
sleeves and tying a stip tight over the wound before helping him off
the
back. "Well shit, what are we doing here Corporal? Where is everyone
else?"
he calls out.

Thank God for Pete, his aderanline has finally kicked in. He manages to
stand up, and lurch in a quick fashion to the back of the truck,
managing to
get out of the vehicle under his own power. Once out, he falls to a
sitting
positon, and begins coughing up copious amounts of blood again.

Luc gets out, trying not to lose the old shotgun. "Allez!" spoken
quickly to
the others, the men with the rifles. "Boche are go west!" trying to
manage
bits of English he's picking up.

Williamson heads over to the truck, and sends the medics after the
wounded
Pete. "Report, corporal." he says to Mancuso.

Mancuso struggles out of the truck. The windows of the vehicle showing
signs
of bullet-rending. He leaves Pete in the care of the others, puffing
over
toward Williamson. "Captain!" he pants. Being shot in the chest is
tiring.
"We been to and back from that other frog village. Brought one of their
kids
with us. He says there are Germans all in the woods in the north along
the
road. We ran into a few on the way back. Alister's hurt real bad."

<> Williamson successfully performs first aid on Mancuso!

Williamson nods. And eyes the kid. "Alright, get back to your squad,
they're
dug in to the north. It sounds like Fritz will be here any second, so
keep
your eyes peeled and get in your holes."

Bob glances at the Pete, then looks over at Mancuso. "You OK there,
Corporal?" he asks.

Pete looks up from the quick treatment by medics, and begins to stand
up, or
trys to. He ends up having to grab the back of the truck, to hoist
himself
up. He doesn't seem to be coughing much anymore, thanks to prompt
treatment.
"We-we need to head back?"

Luc turns quickly to look at Williamson wide-eyed, drawing both hands
behind
his back with the shotgun as if to hide it (or perhaps hide his shaking
hands). He tries to straighten up at attention, the Marine officer's
uniform
carrying a bit more brass and adornments than the men with rifles.
After the
officer turns from him to speak to others, the youth himself gives a
quick
look to the east, and then the north, and finally to each of the
enlisted
men. "Americains?"

The medics slap a bandage on Mancuso's chest, which is all the nick
really
needs. He nods to the Captain, saluting, and shouting a, "Get your ass
in
gear! We're moving north!" to Bob. He goes over to see Pete before
moving
out himself, though. "C'mon. I'll give you hand." He offers the man an
arm
to lean his wounded self on. "Just keep your head down. We're going up
to
join the rest of the boys." He nods roughly to Luc. "Yeah. Americans."

Bob nods his head to Luc. "Nous sommes Americains," he says, his French
actually not too bad, although it has a very distinctive twangy accent.

A hardpacked road winds its way off in the distance. It's large enough
to
allow two vehicles to pass each other on it as long as there's nobody
turning a corner sharply. Mostly used by horses and wagons, it has
lately
seen much other traffic in the form of trucks and the road is beginning
to
show signs of wear and tear.

Pete gives a grateful nod, and grabs a hold of the Lance Corporal's
arm,
following the man back to the defensive line. Funny, but Pete doesn't
seem
to be as nervous as he was on the way up. A large portion of battle is
now
known, thanks to a Hun's rifle.

Mancuso comes trudging back, blood on the chest of his uniform. It's
drying
blood, though, and he doesn't seem like he's in too much pain. He
half-carries Pete with him. The other Marines from the patrol follow,
as
does a French lad with a very big shotgun.

Alex blinks, "Shit, Germans!" he whispers quickly, taking aim.

From Lucy-le-Bocage, a male voice shouts, "CONTACT!".

Luc turns to follow the Americans at a hurry, north. He manages a quick
bright smile to Bob, obviously due to sharing a language. "Arcadian? Tu
parles Francais." He spins around hearing the shout from the south.
"Boche!"

Alex plinks the first German in the head, hardly slowing a beat as he
reloads, aiming for the next in line.

Bob moves to a foxhole and jumps in feet first. "Where are they at?" he
shouts as he hears rifles, looking over at Alex.

Mancuso dives for cover, getting his rifle up and trying to get a
handle on
the situation. "How many men you got up north?" he asks Alex. As he's
closest, and seems to know the score. With his shooting and all.

<> Uter fires his MP18 at Mancuso but misses!

<> Ben fires his Kar98k at Bob but misses!

Alex glances at Mancuso, "Three I believe…" he shouts, taking a shot.

<> Jan fires his Kar98k at Pagliaccio and hits!
Hits hard cover.

<> Schultz fires his Kar98k at Alex and hits!
Alex suffers 5 wound damage to his left hand.

<> Uter fires his MP18 at Mancuso but misses!

<> Ben fires his Kar98k at Bob but misses!

Luc is ducked down into a foxhole, gripping an old gun to his chest but
not
even aiming it to fire yet. He's too young to fit into a uniform,
peering
down towards the south while bullets skip past the foxholes.

Mancuso nods tersely to Alex. "We need to send reinforcements up there?
The
road back was crawling with those fuckers…shit!" That last is spit
out
when Alex is hit.

<> Alex fires his Springfield at Jan but misses!

Pete gets turned around, looking to the west, north, south, just
desparate
to find the enemy and do something about all this shooting. Fear
changed
into action is better than fear, after all.

<> Mancuso fires his Springfield at Klause and hits!
Klause suffers 4 wound damage to his left arm.
<> Klause is already dead! Can't you let the dead rest
in
peace?

Alex cries out loud as he is shot in the hand, "Fuck!" he cries,
glaring at
the others, "Open fire!"

<> Jan fires his Kar98k at Alex and hits!
Alex suffers 3 wound damage to his right arm.

<> Alex fires his Springfield at Jan and hits!
Jan suffers 4 wound damage to his right chest.

Mancuso isn't shy about unloading his Springfield onto the Germans to
the
east of them. Even when he does hit nothing but a corpse the first
time. He
bites off another "Fuck" and gets ready for another shot. The bullet
that
grazes his ear distracts him, though. "Jesus Fucking Christ. Fire on
those
bastards!"

<> Bob fires its Springfield at Jan and hits!
Jan suffers 7 wound damage to his head.
<> Jan has been killed!

<> Mancuso fires his Springfield at Uter and hits!
Uter suffers 1 wound damage to his right hand.

<> Pete fires his Springfield at Uter but misses!

<> Schultz fires his Kar98k at Pete and hits!
Hits hard cover.

<> Uter fires his MP18 at Bob but misses!

Luc spins around to spot the Germans, eyes going wide for a moment as
he
hears the submachine guns as if never in his 15 years has he gazed on
one
before. "Cinq boche" quickly muttered before he gasps a breath and
ducks.

<> Luc fires his M97 Shotgun at Uter but misses!

Bob holds down in his foxhole for a long moment, waiting until the
enemy has
their targets and then he raises up in his foxhole, leveling his rifle
and
taking aim. He then clicks off a shot, hitting Jan right in the face,
causing him to kick back and fall over dead. "Sons of bitches…" he
swears
heavily.

<> Alex fires his Springfield at Schultz and hits!
Schultz suffers 4 wound damage to his left hand.

<> Bob changes its style to Banzai!

Pete gets off his first shot of the War. Predicatble, it's a miss. He
doesn't even bother ducking down to avoid the next shot coming at him.
The
wound doesn't even hurt anymore.

<> Ben fires his Kar98k at Alex but misses!

<> Pete fires his Springfield at Uter and hits!
Uter suffers 7 wound damage to his left chest.
<> Uter has been killed!

Bob frowns slightly. "Concentrate fire!" he shouts.

<> Bob fires its Springfield at Schultz but misses!

<> Mancuso fires his Springfield at Schultz and hits!
Schultz suffers 4 wound damage to his left leg.

<> Schultz fires his Kar98k at Mancuso and hits!
Mancuso suffers 5 wound damage to his left chest.

<> Alex fires his Springfield at Schultz but misses!

Luc blasts off one shot from that old farmer's shotgun, and it might
have
hit a bird in the air as it came nowhere close to the Germans. As a
Marine
yells out, he ducks back down and huddles by himself.

Mancuso is having not-bad luck with his own aim. He edges up a little
out of
his foxhole when he plugs Schultz, to get better aim. That's when he's
hit
in the chest. He's knocked back with a loud, "FUCK!"

<> Ben fires his Kar98k at Pagliaccio but misses!

Pete 's next shoot, however, is a hit. A Good hit. "Yeah! Fucking
German!
How do you like that! HUH!? How does it FEEL!?" He cocks the weapon
savagly,
and aims another shot.

<> Pete fires his Springfield at Klause but misses!

<> Bob fires its Springfield at Schultz and hits!
Schultz suffers 2 wound damage to his right chest.

<> Mancuso fires his Springfield at Schultz and hits!
Schultz suffers 2 wound damage to his right chest.

<> Pagliaccio fires his Springfield at Schultz and hits!
Schultz suffers 3 wound damage to his right leg.

<> You hear the sound of Rifles from L-L-B <> Belleau
Road!

Bob shouts from his foxhole, "Anyone hit?" as eh continues firing shot
after
shot at the enemies.

<> Schultz reloads his Kar98k!

<> Alex reloads his Springfield!

<> Pete fires his Springfield at Schultz and hits!
Schultz suffers 5 wound damage to his right arm.

Mancuso shouts back at Bob, "Yeah, I'm fucking hit! Just shoot the
bastard!"
He struggles to crawl back into shooting position himself, coughing.
Chest
wounds are a bitch.

<> Ben reloads his Kar98k!

<> Pagliaccio fires his Springfield at Schultz and hits!
Schultz suffers 5 wound damage to his left hand.

<> Mancuso fires his Springfield at Schultz but misses!

<> Bob fires its Springfield at Schultz and hits!
Schultz suffers 3 wound damage to his left leg.

Pagliaccio yells, "Suck it, you damned German Bastards!" He hollars
out,
firing rapidly with his rifle, peppering Shultz with round after round
after
round as he keeps standing!

<> Alex fires his Springfield at Schultz but misses!

Pete doesn't even look back at his Lance Corporal. There's something to
be
said about action, wounds, and a boxer. Another hit, and his chambering
another round. "Fuckers! Come one!

<> Pagliaccio fires his Springfield at Schultz but
misses!

Luc keeps low, only taking the slightest peek up to make sure there's
no big
stormtrooper charging at him. He's rubbing his shoulder, as if the
single
shot he took has kicked into it bruising the young man's arm.

Mancuso is looking for revenge. But not with a gun that's out of ammo.
He
coughs again as he reloads it, muttering profanity in Italian under his
breath. It keeps him from screaming.

<> Pete reloads his Springfield!

<> Mancuso fires his Springfield at Schultz but misses!
<> You shoot at Schultz with your Springfield! Your
accuracy
is 33 percent!

<> Pagliaccio fires his Springfield at Schultz but
misses!

<> Alex fires his Springfield at Schultz but misses!

<> You notice Adler arrive at L-L-B <> Belleau Road.

From L-L-B <> Belleau Road, a male voice shouts, "MEDIC!!".

Pete grunts, as the next trigger pull produces a click. How can he be
out of
ammo already!? He grunts, and quickly reloads with any spare shells
he's
got. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. They ain't getting away from me…"

<> Mancuso changes his style to Banzai!

<> Bob reloads its Springfield!

<> Pete fires his Springfield at Klause but misses!

Alex growls as he sees Adler move up, swinging his rifle around to
shoot the
nosey Stormtrooper.

Luc looks up and spots Adler. "Boche~~~!" he yells out.

<> Luc fires his M97 Shotgun at Adler and hits
Adler suffers 8 wound damage to his head.
<> Adler has been killed!

Alex turns back as the Germans head is turned to hamburger, taking aim
at
the Germans across the fields.

"There's another one!" Mancuso shouts, seeing Adler move onto the
German
line. But that's before Luc guns him down. He grins over at the French
kid.
"Knew it was a good move bringing him along!" he laughs.

<> Mancuso fires his Springfield at Schultz but misses!

<> Pagliaccio reloads his Springfield!

<> Bob fires its Springfield at Schultz and hits!
Schultz suffers 5 wound damage to his right arm.

<> Schultz moves East to Wheatfield .

<> Alex fires his Springfield at Jan but misses!

Luc fires at the German who'd rushed, screaming out the word as the
shotgun's blast kicks him back down into the foxhole, his arm almost
dropping the weapon as the German's head explodes.

Pagliaccio yell, "YOu son of a bitch, die!!"

Pete yells feral, even though his own shot missed. "Yeah! See! You
don't
mess with the fuckin' Marine Corps! No one does!"
NEver mind it was a Frechman who fired. THey were all marines here.

Mancuso raises his rifle again but pauses when Schultz moves off.
"There any
Huns alive out there?" he calls, squinting east. He don't see any.

<> Riedel fires his Kar98k at Mancuso but misses!

<> Ernst moves into Foxhole.

Mancuso was just relaxing at the sight of all those dead eastern
Germans,
too. Then Riedel's shot, pinging over his head from the north,
interrupts
his peace. "Looks like the boys up there've been overrun!" he yells.
"Fire
north!"

<> Riedel fires his Kar98k at Bob but misses!

Pete stops shooting at Dead Men, and turns his fanatical attention to
the
North. "More of you!? What did I just say, Huh! WHAT!?

<> Horst fires his Kar98k at Alex but misses!

<> Mancuso fires his Springfield at Riedel but misses!

Alex turns his rifle to the North to open fire…

Bob holds up a hand and gestures to the east. "Someone keep an eye to
the
east though!" he calls out.

<> Alex fires his Springfield at Riedel and hits!
Riedel suffers 4 wound damage to his right chest.

<> Bob fires its Springfield at Riedel but misses!

Luc spins to look back east, but he's huddling down low in the hole as
if
expecting to be overrun from the south.

<> Mancuso fires his Springfield at Riedel but misses!

<> Pete fires his Springfield at Riedel and hits!
Riedel suffers 2 wound damage to his right leg.

<> Horst fires his Kar98k at Alex but misses!

Alex works the bolt on his rifle as he plinks another German, fumbling
for
another stripper clip to reload his rifle.

<> Alex reloads his Springfield!

"Keep plugging at them, ladies!" Mancuso calls to the men. "Spread out
your
fire. Keep those bastards on their toes." And keep their stress up, and
accuracy down.

<> Riedel moves East to Belleau .

<> Horst fires his Kar98k at Bob but misses!

<> Mancuso fires his Springfield at Ernst and hits!
Ernst suffers 6 wound damage to his left arm.

Bob says "Someone keep an eye to the east!!!"

<> Pete fires his Springfield at Ernst but misses!

<> Alex fires his Springfield at Horst but misses!

Pete grunts, as another shot misses. Bastards! Bloody Bastards! Not a
Marine
left to the North! Those huns will PAY!

Luc peeks up, snatching a look east. "Pas de l'est'. and ducks back
down. He
rubs that left arm again, muttering tiny snatches of words in French
that
aren't able to be made out.

<> Horst fires his Kar98k at Bob but misses!

<> Ernst fires his Kar98k at Pagliaccio but misses!

Bob shouts out again. "Who is watching to the east?"

"Good idea, Mack!" Mancuso shouts roughly to Bob. "-You- keep a
look-out
east. And holler if you spot any Huns." That said, he goes back to
shooting.

<> Mancuso reloads his Springfield!

Pagliaccio yells back, "I WAS! Until some damned hun shot at me, now
I'm
going to kill every last one of those sausage eating bastards!" He
hollars.

<> Pete fires his Springfield at Ernst and hits!
Ernst suffers 5 wound damage to his left arm.

<> Bob tries to inspire the troops!

<> Alex fires his Springfield at Horst but misses!

<> Horst fires his Kar98k at Bob and hits!
Bob suffers 1 wound damage to its right hand.

<> Pagliaccio fires his Springfield at Ernst but misses!

Luc turns to the possible Cajun. "Moi, mais il n'y a pas de boche de
l'est!"
to Bob.

<> Ernst fires his Kar98k at Pagliaccio but misses!

Bob nods his head. "Oui oui, je comprends…" he shouts back.

<> Bob fires its Springfield at Ernst and hits!
Ernst suffers 1 wound damage to his right chest.

<> Mancuso fires his Springfield at Horst and hits!
Horst suffers 4 wound damage to his right arm.

Jacob grunts as he looks down at his hand again. "God damn Krauts…"
He
grunts, eyes shining with tears now. Reaching down he grabs a grenade
from
his belt. "Take this bastards." He rears back and throws it…weakly
but
enough.

<> Jacob unwields his Springfield!
<> Jacob wields his Mk2 Pineapple!

<> Horst reloads his Kar98k!

<> Ernst fires his Kar98k at Mancuso but misses!

<> Mancuso fires his Springfield at Horst but misses!

Luc peeks up again, snatching another look east. He turns to the other
foxholes and calls out with adrenaline rushing. "Go Americain Marine!"
A
turn, and he quickly points towards the east. "Boche! Boche!"

<> Pete fires his Springfield at Ernst but misses!

<> Bob fires its Springfield at Ernst but misses!

Alex glances at Luc, "Germans to the east again?" he asks again to
clarify.

<> Horst fires his Kar98k at Jacob and hits!
Jacob suffers 2 wound damage to his right arm.

Mancuso pauses to reload his rifle. That's the only break from his
shooting.
Then he's back to firing away at the Germans to the north. "You ain't
kidding, kid," he grunts as Luc continues to shout 'Boche'. "How many?"